


Miss Julia

by S_Faith



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-09
Updated: 2006-05-09
Packaged: 2019-03-12 05:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: Sometimes the line between fiction and reality is paper-thin.





	Miss Julia

**Author's Note:**

> ©1992, 1993, 1995
> 
> Takes place after Bev asks Jean-Luc to be the butler in her play, but definitely before "Attached". Probably some time during the sixth season of TNG.
> 
> Pulled this one out of cold storage (I mean, whoa, check out those dates!) and was surprised that I still enjoy it. This was not previously published, only posted to friends, or a private mail list. I can't remember which and I've slept a lot since then. Please, no slip ups on the real name if you've seen it before. :)

Beverly sat beside the captain and looked to him thoughtfully, her chin resting comfortably in her palm.  "You were wonderful tonight," she commented to him, her voice low and smoky.

Jean-Luc, dressed in the finest of late nineteenth-century livery wear, consisting of a loose, open-fronted white pirate shirt, tight black pants, and high stable boots, returned the look in full with an unusual sparkle in his bluish grey eyes.  Beverly looked beautiful in her richly decorated, jewel green velvet gown, and her auburn hair was styled with delicate loops of braids and of satin ribbon of the same green.  Modestly, he said,  "It was all because of you.  If you hadn't persuaded me…"

The doctor nodded.  "But persuasion doesn't work unless the persuaded caves.  Bravo on a terrific performance."  She raised the bottle of champagne she had brought along with her to ask him if he cared to share in a toast.

"Well,"  he joked,  "I have to work in the morning, but… it isn't every day I share the stage with a very talented and lovely lady."  He thought he saw her blush as she handed him the bottle.

"You may do the honours, Jean."  He didn't know if she intended to call him by his character's name from the play, but it did not matter.  He sent the cork flying across the table as the champagne foamed over the lip of the bottle and into tall, elegant glasses.

He took his glass and held it aloft; she did the same, preparing to toast.  Beverly expected a long-winded speech so typical of the diplomat in him, but instead he said a very succinct,  "Cheers."

As they raised their glasses to their lips, it seemed for a moment that they were alone in the universe, and not at the cast party after their performance of the Strindberg play "Miss Julia".  Jean-Luc considered how talented she was, what a dear friend she had always been… how lovely she looked that night…

Then Will Riker's booming voice burst the bubble.

"You must have the blood of a thespian in you, after all, Sir,"  he said, referring of course to the role of the amourous servant Jean that the captain had so convincingly portrayed.  Picard had done a marvelous job, much better than the captain himself had expected.  

Seemingly budding from Riker's left arm was the beaming face of Deanna Troi.  "Excellent job, excellent!"  said the dark-haired counselor, looking pretty in dark seafoam silk.

Beverly continued her proud smile.  "Our captain would have everyone believe that I did all the work.  Convince him otherwise."

Picard grinned, holding up his hand in protest. "Now stop this, or you'll have me believing I've chosen the wrong line of work,"  he proclaimed good-naturedly, to which they all laughed.

"Come on, join us in some champagne,"  chimed in Beverly. "Please?"

"Let me get some more glasses,"  offered Will, and he made for the bar.

Deanna took the seat beside Beverly, and said, "I was really impressed with Ro's acting ability."

"I agree.  I was a little wary about casting her, but luckily, I was pleasantly surprised.  She did a fine job as Kristin,"  replied Beverly, indicating where the woman sat on the other side of the room.

"I was so surprised to see Worf as one of villagers!  What did you do, blackmail him?"  Deanna asked.  They all laughed.

"Actually, he asked to be in it!"  said Beverly, and Troi was red with laughter.

"Oh,"  Deanna said when she found her breath again.  "I really loved the whole thing.  And you, Captain!  What an absolute smooth-talker!  Jean could have gotten a _Vulcan_ to fall in love with him!"  She laughed and expected them to laugh with her.  

Instead, Jean-Luc and Beverly shot each other a quick glance, leaving Deanna a bit confused.  Beverly explained:  "We decided to play it his way.  A little less _passionate_ on both our parts."

Her dark eyes went tremendously wide.  " _Less_ passionate?  I could feel the passion from the tenth row!  Beverly, how could _that_ have been intensified?"

She shrugged, trying to make nonchalance of it. "Well, it involved a little more… intense eye contact… and some strategic physical contact… and, more emphasis on certain words.  But…"  Her words trailed off, and she gave him a glance that told Deanna that, play-acting or not, Jean-Luc Picard was uncomfortable with Beverly's direction in this matter.

Deanna nodded slightly, acknowledging her.  'You put that man face to face with a hostile situation, and he doesn't flinch,'  she thought.  'But put him in a situation with a woman that he finds attractive and the man falls apart.'  With that, a slow smile touched her lips.  "Oh, I should have liked to have seen your version, Beverly,"  Deanna said teasingly, as Riker neared with the two glasses.

Picard had remained silent during this exchange by the two women, which was a little unusual, but spoke now.  It didn't surprise either of the women that he moved to change the subject.  "Let's have a toast amongst us all now, shall we?"  He emptied what remained in his glass for a refill, and filled the other glasses as well.

Raising their glasses together, Picard said, "Here's to August Strindberg, without whom we would undoubtedly be doing something constructive right now!"  Everyone erupted with hearty laughter, as they tossed back their heads and drank from their glasses.

The champagne was divine, from the Picard Vineyards itself.  For a moment, eyes engaged and smiles budded.

"You know, Will,"  began Deanna,  "Beverly was just telling me that she'd have liked the 'seduction' scenes saucier."

Picard's eyes were filled with a fleeting disgust, which Deanna had expected, but she didn't much care.  Will's brows had shot up as high as they could go, as his blue eyes flashed to meet Beverly's.  "Saucier, you say?  And how would _that_ have been possible, I ask you?"

Beverly pointed a scolding finger to Deanna. "That is _not_ what I said,"  she said, holding up her half-empty glass, and with a decisive look, made it empty.  Jean-Luc filled her glass again, looking a touch annoyed at the whole direction of this conversation.

Noticing the speed at which the two actors were taking in the delicious champagne, Will commented,  "Maybe if they have enough to drink, we can convince them to do a special performance here in Ten Forward."

At that comment, Jean-Luc went absolutely cranberry with embarrassment, though he tried awfully hard not to show it.  To his surprise, he felt a hand on his thigh under the table.  It was Beverly's and she patted him lightly.  He was even more surprised when the hand settled there.

"Maybe,"  Beverly said enigmatically.  "We'll let you know."  And she winked, breaking the tension.  Jean-Luc looked to her with a questioning glance, which she answered with a smile.

Riker looked faced for about an entire second before bursting out in laughter.  The two women began to laugh as well.

"Incorrigible,"  Picard muttered, and Beverly's hand squeezed ever so gently on his knee.  Perhaps with the champagne in his system, his mind was making much more of it than it was.  She could not know, he scolded himself.  She could never know.  

As Beverly finally did withdraw her hand, he found no longer cared.  If only he could have that hand there for all time. 

•

Ten-Forward was a shadow of its former self, nearly desolate of activity after the boisterous party.  The second bottle was gone before the four of them were noticeably affected:  Deanna would start laughing at the smallest provocation.  Riker became enamoured of Beverly's intricate hairdo.  Beverly had been babbling on incoherently about some of her really disgusting medical school labs, but luckily had waned on her descriptions of blood and guts.  However, Picard became ever more pensive, nursing his fluted champagne glass.

"Medically speaking,"  went on the doctor,  "this, this is not good, what we're doing.  The effects of alcohol are completely detrimental."

"I'll have another,"  said Riker, winking to her, forgetting that the last of the drink had been taken by Beverly only moments ago.

Beverly turned her eyes to the silence beside her, as if she were just noticing Picard's somber mood.  She grabbed his hand and said,  "Jean-Luc.  Your brilliance was performant.  Cheer up or I'm quitting."

He smiled at her slip-up, reaching for her glass. "Beverly, I think you've had quite enough."

"On the contrary,"  she said, challenging him with her gaze, and holding fast his hand,  "I've not had nearly enough."

He wondered what on earth she meant, for a moment sending his heart aflutter.  He found the voice to say,  "We really should break this up and go to sleep."  He made a concerted effort _not_ to say 'bed'.

She cocked an eyebrow.  "'What, go to bed on Midsummer Night?'"

Riker and Deanna looked to one another and said in unison, "Oooo."

Beverly stood and continued in the character she had played on the stage, her hand still held by the captain's.  "'It's a holiday tonight — everyone ought to enjoy themselves — not think about rank.'"

He looked to Deanna and Riker, who were obviously expecting him to pluck a retort of equal calibre from the play.  He suspected the shade of his comment would be lost on the two observers, but he couldn't help himself, thinking of the last time he had been in close quarters with an inebriated Beverly.  "'We've made fools of ourselves once, why do it again?'"  he asked in a humble tone.

She took her arms and folded them in front of her chest, silent for a moment or two.  Then she merely burst into laughter.  As she did, she queried, smoothing down the pleats of her dress, "'You're proud, aren't you?'"

He continued with the conversation from the play, his voice bold,  "'In some ways.  Not in others.'"  As he said it, he remembered the line to come next, and hoped upon hope that she would not continue to follow the script.

She did.  "'Have you ever been in love?'"  she asked playfully.

They had by then attracted the attention of everyone still remaining in Ten Forward; they all looked on expectantly for the next line.  He took a deep breath, his throat tightening up with anxiety.  Somehow he found the power to continue with the dialogue from the play, and not betray his heart.  "'Well, we don't put it like that.  I've been keen on lots of girls.  Once, I was quite ill because I couldn't have the one I wanted — like the princes in the Arabian Nights who were so lovesick they couldn't eat or drink.'"

Beverly was obviously enjoying the impromptu performance, as was the party crowd.  "'Who was she?'"  she prodded, placing her hands on her hips.  After a silent, predetermined moment, she asked again as scripted,  "'Who was she?'"

Jean-Luc answered meekly,  "'You'll never make me tell you.'"

She walked close to him and moved her hands from her hips onto his, practically touching noses with the man.  "'Not if I ask you as an equal — as a friend?'"  she queried, her voice smooth and sultry.  "'Who was she?'"

"You."

A shocked silence permeated the room.

Too late, he thanked his lucky stars that his ill-muttered response was the same word that August Strindberg had scripted.  Her blue eyes grew wide as she turned to the onlookers with a satisfied expression, holding a hand palm up.

"Good heavens, Beverly, you were right,"  Deanna gasped incredulously.  Riker only nodded mutely.

Deanna stood and Beverly threaded her arm though the crook of Deanna's elbow.  "Thank you, thank you all very much for your vindication.  Come on, my friend, I do need to get to bed, after all."

Before she left, she winked to him.  The muscles in his neck tightened to inhuman proportions.  Some moments later, Picard had still not moved from his spot.  He had come far too close for his comfort.  He had vowed to himself never to let her know of the feelings he'd had for her those years ago, and still did to an extent; he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He would not ever let the opportunity arise again.  He would have to keep his guard up, and take care to keep it up.  That's all there would be to it.  He raised his chin and strode out through the wide double doors of Ten Forward. 

_The end._

**Author's Note:**

> This was written after I heard that Patrick Stewart had once played the part of Jean in this very play… 


End file.
